


In Another Life

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Antok/Kolivan, Epistolary, I didn't want to tag MCD because it doesn't stick so, M/M, Multiple Lifetimes, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Reincarnation, Temporary Character Death, Very slightly implied background Shiro/Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: They were never meant to be fighters.A healer. A protector. Just two Galra, and a love that was meant to last a lifetime.But fate is not always so kind. Again and again, the promise of a lifetime—from before Voltron; before everything—goes unfulfilled. Their story has lasted millennia, full of pain and loss and absence.But it's not over yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Galra Big Bang! A huge thank you to my artist, aliengecko!!! Check out 

_Kolivan stares at the screen in front of him, wondering if he’s seeing things._

_He’s nearly convinced he has, for a moment.  The correspondence between Thace and Ulaz has been fairly standard, for the most part.  He’s gleaned some intelligence from it, at least, after personally taking on the grim task of going through all of their messages to each other, making sure that there isn’t any crucial information they had yet to pass along._

_But no matter how many times he blinks, the message says the same thing:_

_“I miss you more than the breath in my lungs, more than there are stars in the universe, more than I could ever express if I were to write from the beginning of time until the end of it._

_“Keep yourself safe, my love._

_“Eternally yours, Ulaz.”_

_Kolivan sucks in a breath, this information reeling around and around in his head._

_Eventually, slowly, steadily, he navigates to Thace’s next message._

—

**_Ten thousand deca-phoebs ago_ **

The day they were to be married, the Alteans broadcast the alarm: Daibazaal must be destroyed.

Thace and Ulaz, as a soon-to-be-wed couple tended to do, remained in blissful ignorance for several hours after this.  Weddings were sacred events, not to be interrupted, guests and participants alike shutting out the world around them.  The grooms had bond necklaces to exchange, after all: both of them had painstakingly handcrafted the pendants in secret over the past few months, and worrying about your mate’s reaction to them would have been enough to deal with for anyone.  Add that to the fact that Ulaz’s family was _very traditional_ , and Thace had his hands full.  Or, tied, rather.

“I need that, you know!” Ulaz laughed, eyes crinkling as Thace attempted to tug his right hand over—which meant Ulaz’s left hand came with it—to cut the meat on his plate.  Around them, family members stifled laughter at the image.

“Do you want to cut it _for_ me?” Thace sighed, and to his mortification, Ulaz actually reached over with his free hand, cutting the meat into bite-sized pieces.

“Better?”

At Thace’s glare, Ulaz stuck the tines of his utensil into one of the bits of meat, then lifted it to Thace’s mouth, saying nothing, but smiling hopefully.

With a reluctant sigh, clearly trying to hide a smile of his own, Thace opened it, allowing Ulaz to feed him.

“I still don’t see why we had to do this,” he muttered eventually, plucking at the ribbon that bound their hands together.  Ulaz swatted it away.

“Tradition.  A symbol of our union.  Keeping us together for the rest of our lives, and beyond.”

“Superstition,” Thace scoffed quietly, but he turned, pressing his forehead to Ulaz’s.  “We don’t need a ribbon to prove that.  Not when it’s already true.”

After the feast came the dance, the newlyweds spinning around each other, hands touching then pulling apart, at first a tease, then a commitment, moving closer and closer until, as the music stopped, they pressed against each other, not even a breath apart.

When they came together in a kiss, the entire ceremonial hall cheered.

So focused were they on the kiss, on each other, that they didn’t notice the cheers dying out rather quickly.  It wasn’t until the hall grew utterly silent that they began to realize something was amiss.

Ulaz was the first to pull away, eyes narrowed and concerned.  Thace, after attempting unsuccessfully to chase his husband’s mouth, sighed in resignation and turned to see what all the fuss was about.

Someone had breached etiquette and pulled out a datapad, broadcasting its holographic display for those present—and everyone, absolutely everyone, had crowded around, eyes wide.

With a frown of his own, annoyance to Ulaz’s concern, Thace started forward.  A tug on his wrist from the ribbon, and Ulaz followed along behind him.

“What’s so urgent?” he demanded—out of frustration, he told himself, not out of agitation or worry.  Instead of apologetic looks, however, several members of the crowd shot the two a look of sorrow, then began to part for him.

“Thace!”  That voice was his mother’s, deca-phoebs of military service having trained her to pitch her voice to be heard.  “Move, all of you!  Let him through!”

The crowd split, and Thace shoved forward, dragging Ulaz along with him.  Tight worry gripped his chest, ears flat back, fur on his spine prickling.

As he grew closer, he spotted King Alfor, temporary regent in the wake of the Emperor’s very recent death.  His first thought was that the sticky matter of Galra succession had been decided, but then Thace’s mother replayed the broadcast.

“It is with a heavy heart that I must announce immediate evacuation of and destruction of Daibazaal.  The planet has mere movements—even perhaps quintants—before the same disaster that claimed the lives of your rulers claims the rest of you as well.

“We will, of course, be providing resources from every possible area to assist with…”

The words, the wedding guests, faded out as numb horror began to settle within Thace’s bones.  He stared, unhearing, at the grim visage of the Altean king, still speaking the death sentence for their home.

He thought back to the charming, out-of-the-way clinic where he and Ulaz had first met, a wonderful change from the doctor’s visits that Thace usually dreaded.  The park in the middle of their huge city, orange-silver grass soft under their backs as they rested next to the lake, hands clasped.  The three moons, shining down on the beach pavilion and their clasped hands, as Ulaz knelt and asked for Thace’s hand.

He thought of the small house on the outskirts of town, recently bought with their hard-earned GAC, in need of repair but _theirs._  Theirs to build a life in, raise a family in, grow old in.

But not anymore.

He turned to Ulaz in mute horror, his husband’s stricken gaze telling Thace that he wasn’t the only one with such thoughts running through his head.

Thace reached out numbly to untie the ribbon from their wrists.  What did it matter, anymore?

But Ulaz’s free hand caught Thace’s, and instead, he curled their fingers together, squeezing gently, eyes lifting to meet Thace’s with a pleading expression.

But Thace could think of nothing to say.

—

“We can’t go.”

“We don’t have a _choice_ , Thace.”

Thace paced from one side of their kitchen to the other.  Tiny, yes, but _theirs._  Still full of unopened cookware, sent to the newlyweds in expectation of their new life together.

Thace had seen the size of the evacuation transports.  There would never _be_ a chance to use it.

“Maybe—maybe he’s wrong.  Doesn’t this seem a little suspect to you?  The entire _planet?_  What could be so dangerous—if enough people don’t leave, they can’t—”

Ulaz reached out to take Thace’s hands, lifting the back of the first one, then the other, to his lips.  Thace felt his claws slowly retract—he hadn’t even realized he had extended them.

“We have to go,” Ulaz said, voice steady and quiet.  “If there were more time, perhaps.  But I… I’ve heard enough of the medical science around what happened.  They’ve kept plenty confidential, but…”

Thace shook his head mutely.  Words.  Vague threats, unsubstantiated by any real fact.  They couldn’t just sit back and accept this.  With all their millennia of technology, there had to be _something_ to save their home planet.

“We will have _nothing_ ,” Thace hissed, a last, desperate effort to convince Ulaz.  To continue lying to himself.

“We will have each other,” Ulaz replied quietly, resting his cheek in the palm of Thace’s hand.  “And that will be enough.”

The words buried themselves in the stone of Thace’s heart, and he could feel it crack.  The dam he had forced into place, the day of their wedding, began to crumble, a rush of emotions swamping everything that was left.  Denial.  Fear.  Hopelessness.  Desperation.

With a choked sob, he sagged forward, face burying in Ulaz’s chest.  A pair of strong arms reached out to wrap around him.

“Things can be replaced,” Thace heard Ulaz murmur as he nuzzled deeper into the embrace, wishing that they could stay right here, like this, forever.  “But you can’t be.”

—

Altea was huge.  Altea was beautiful.  Altea was nothing like home.

But they could have made it that way.  Thace was willing, and stars, Ulaz wanted to.  He wanted to put all of this behind them, to focus on the future, to begin building one with his husband by his side.

But as he watched Thace stare down at his communicator, he wondered if it would ever be a possibility.

“He is your _Emperor_ , Thace!” snarled the image of Thace’s mother from the screen, ears laying flat back, eyes narrowed.  Thace wore a matching expression, and Ulaz was close enough to see the fur prickling down his spine.  “You owe him your allegiance!”

“I owe it to myself to question this, mother,” Thace shot back.  “Do you not find this _suspect?_  There have already been so many rumors, whispers—and have you _seen_ the emperor?  He doesn’t—”

“Emperor Zarkon is _alive!_ ” she retorted, voice raising in a shout.  “Alfor _lied_ to us!  What else do you think he lied about, to bring down our empire, to leave us at his mercy?  He used his position as an ally to destroy our _planet_ , and now you remain on one full of traitors and liars!  Revenge is coming, Thace, and you would do well to make sure you’re on the right side!”

“Then I will fight!”  Ulaz had heard Thace yell before, but never like this.  And certainly never to his mother, who could be difficult, but not unloving, and whose approval Thace had always craved.  “I’m not the _traitor._  I will fight with the people who saved us, against this false Empire that now attempts to stick a blade in them from behind!”

Her eyes widened, expression stricken, and Ulaz realized that she hadn’t expected this level of defiance, not so forward and steadfast.  Argument, perhaps—after all, with Thace it was assumed—but not this vehement of a declaration.  For the briefest of ticks, and only because he knew her son’s expressions so well, he caught a flicker of what might have been hesitation.

But then it vanished, to be replaced by a mulish expression that Ulaz also knew well: it usually preceded Thace saying something that he would later agonize over apologizing for.

Ulaz braced himself.

“So be it,” she hissed.  “Maybe, one day, you will come to your senses and realize that those you brand a ‘false empire’ are the ones who are truly loyal to our people.  And when that day comes, maybe I will have a son again.”

“That day will never come,” Thace spat back, fangs bared, “because I would rather be _dead_ than join with such treachery.”

With a vicious gesture, Thace punched the button that ended the call.

He glared furiously into the empty space where the hologram had vanished, shaking slightly.  And when he began to sag, Ulaz was there to support him.

“She’s done with me,” Thace murmured, sinking onto the daybed.  “It’s over.  We’re going to war, and my family and I…”

“No,” Ulaz said, voice quiet and firm.  “No, you don’t know that yet.  I understand that things are strained right now.  But we’ve been through too much as a people to be torn apart now.  There are enough of us who support the Alteans that we will be heard.  It… I can’t imagine that it won’t be ugly.  We are a passionate people, after all.  But so are we loyal to each other.”  Ulaz swallowed, wavering on whether or not to make this personal, then succumbed.  “Give her time.”

Ulaz could feel Thace stiffen in his arms, but after a few ticks, Thace curled up, laying down to rest his head in Ulaz’s lap.  Ulaz gently ran his nails through the short fur, smiling faintly as he began to feel the subtle, pleased rumbling from Thace.

“Zarkon wants to go to war,” Thace reminded him, voice soft.  “He wants to destroy Altea, too.”

Ulaz sighed.  “He knows he can’t win, not against so many opposing him.  And ordering his forces to fight against—against siblings?  Friends?   _Sons?_ ”  Thace stiffened yet again, but Ulaz rubbed gently behind his ears.  “They won’t.  And think of the task it was to destroy Daibazaal.  Thousands working to place charges, quintants of preparation, and Daibazaal had far more areas of instability in the first place.  Altea—can you imagine anyone, even the Galra Empire, managing something like that, on such a scale, with all the opposition they would face?”

Thace turned, looking up at Ulaz with a solemn expression and studying them carefully.  “He seemed certain.  He gave us until today to decide.”

Ulaz knew.  He remembered the broadcast, the demands, the call for loyal Galra.  He remembered how bitterly the debates had raged, tearing apart friends and family the way it had Thace’s.  He remembered, with a twist of his gut, that no word had come from the Castle of Lions in some time now.  An attempt to keep it from Zarkon’s hands, perhaps, but it would have been nice to have the support of the remaining paladins.

But he had to settle himself.  His husband was frustratingly adept at picking up on uncertainty and hesitation, so Ulaz wouldn’t allow himself any.

“Zarkon has said a great many things,” Ulaz said quietly.  “And I believe he would say a great many more, true or not, to achieve his ends.”

The words hurt to say, and Ulaz could feel Thace go still, feel the rumbling stop.  Zarkon had _been_ a kind, wise leader.  To see him like this—to not know if they were _right_ , in their refusal to follow him—cut Ulaz deeply.  He could only imagine how it must be affecting Thace, raised to be a part of the Imperial Defense Legion, to serve the emperor and protect his people.

And to hear his mother say such things, to see how it had divided Thace’s family… Ulaz knew that this had to be tearing Thace apart from all directions, and all he could do was sit by and watch.

But Thace’s hand reached over and slipped into his, and Ulaz realized… not quite, no.  That wasn’t all he could do.

He squeezed gently, then pulled him over, wrapping him in strong arms.

He could at least do this.

—

The two of them watched, that evening, as the last of the shuttles left Altea, an exodus of Galra who had decided that their loyalty lay with Emperor Zarkon.  An exodus of Galra who had decided that the Alteans had proven themselves untrustworthy.  Ulaz could only hope that he had been right, that their people could recover from this divide.

But for now, he and Thace needed to focus on themselves.  On rebuilding their own lives.  The healing between their people could come later.

“It will be all right,” came Thace’s murmur, as they stood at the window together, their cramped bedroom a fraction of the size of the home they had owned back on Daibazaal.  Still, they were one of a lucky set of people who weren’t cramped into a place to live with several others, a perk that had arisen from Ulaz’s medical training and value as a doctor and Thace’s willingness to lend his abilities to the Altean defense forces, as well.  “We’ve come through worse.”

Ulaz’s mouth twitched, and he could feel a tightness in his chest at the thought that Thace, already so worried about the situation himself, was now trying to comfort him.  He knew that Thace wasn’t convinced, but that he would try, for Ulaz…

“It will,” Ulaz murmured, turning to pull Thace in, pressing their foreheads together.  “And thank you.”  He leaned in, pressing their lips together, and they lingered for several moments.

“Come to bed?”

Ulaz’s soft smile turned into a grin at the invitation, and he accepted Thace’s hand, allowing himself to be led away from the window.  Though the bed was tiny, when they pressed up against each other, they could fit with no problem at all.

They had this, Ulaz reminded himself, and though the dull ache of their home planet’s loss would likely never leave, having his husband next to him, curled up together, as they kissed and lingered, would at least be a balm, and one that would lie beside him for the rest of their lives.

—

The noise woke Thace; Thace’s movements woke Ulaz.

“Did you hear that?” came the rumble from next to him.

Ulaz grunted, then twisted to see that Thace had sat bolt upright in bed, eyes narrowed, ears pricked as he stared towards the window.  Ulaz’s eyes, adjusting to the dim light, caught sight of the fur on Thace’s shoulders prickling and sighed.  Altea had its share of strange events and sounds, and for someone conditioned to protect others, Thace could get very antsy over it.  He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, then leaned into Thace, nuzzling into his chest and hoping that allowing Thace to look after him would be some comfort, at least.

“No,” he hummed, as Thace’s arms wrapped immediately around him—but that was a lie.  Now that he had been pulled from sleep, he _could_ hear it, an odd humming from outside.  Thace’s eyes continued to narrow, and Ulaz sighed.  Now he would _never_ get him to sleep properly.

Thace made for the edge of the bed, but Ulaz wrapped his arms around Thace, stopping him.  “No.  You’re always looking for excuses not to sleep properly.”

“But—”

“ _No_ ,” Ulaz repeated, voice firm, then shimmied over to step out of the bed himself.  “I’ll take a look.  _You_ go back to sleep.”

Thace sighed, but he flopped obediently back on the bed, watching Ulaz.  As Ulaz shot a glance back, he could see Thace’s eyes taking in his bare form, a slight smirk on his face, absolutely unapologetic as they raked over Ulaz’s back.

“ _Sleep_ ,” he insisted, though he couldn’t resist a faint smile.  “Tomorrow.”

With another sigh, he turned his head away, though Ulaz knew by now that the sulking wasn’t sincere.

Shaking his head, Ulaz stepped over to the window, sliding open the top frame and peering out.

He was not expecting what he saw.

The sky, usually dark above the city lights, had lightened as if for dawn.  But it was far too early for morning; he had checked the clock as soon as they had woken up...

No, not quite as if for dawn.  It was a dull red, an ominous color, not the cool pastels of an Altean sunrise.  This was more like the mornings at Daibazaal, but there was something still... off about it.

He was not the only one confused, he could see.  Others had moved to their windows, and on a few of his closer neighbors, he could see expressions of confusion and fear.  Farther off, though he couldn't see details, the planet's nocturnal population had paused as well, turning to stare up at the sky.

An entire planet, watching.  Waiting.

And as they did, the source of the light became apparent: several beams of what looked like focused light, speeding towards them all.

Though Ulaz was not a fighter, not personally, he had seen enough of Thace practicing to recognize them, or at least note similarities.  They appeared to be enormous... projectiles.  Energy projectiles, like those that left the barrel of a blaster when shooting.  The noise grew, an oppressive whining that Ulaz now realized he also recognized, and would have immediately, if it had been on a smaller scale.

But that couldn't be possible.  No one had that sort of technology; the sheer amount of power alone that would be needed to create a weapon of such devastating magnitude...

But Ulaz was a scientist.  He believed in what he could see.  He believed in taking stock of evidence, of analyzing situations based on previous observations, and drawing the most logical conclusions.

A conclusion such as, "Zarkon had given them until today to leave."  A conclusion such as, "He wants to destroy Altea."

Heart in his throat, he closed the window again, hands shaking, pulling the curtains over to block out the light.

Ulaz took several deep breaths, a tight terror in his chest.

"What?" came the sharp voice from behind him.  "What is it?"

He heard Thace begin to move again, to come over and see for himself, but Ulaz forced away the physical reactions to what he had seen.  Only one of them should bear this burden.  The other...

"It's nothing," he said softly, plastering a soft, fond smile onto his face as he turned away.  "The Alteans are testing a new defense system, from what I can tell.  I... I did not realize they were this worried.  I am sorry if I concerned you."  He hesitated before the next words, but... would it even matter?  "I'm not as knowledgeable about this sort of thing as you are.  You know that."

Thace's expression immediately softened into fondness as he extended his arms, and Ulaz stumbled over to the bed, crawling in and pressing close, resting his chin on the top of Thace's head and closing his eyes.  He did his best not to shake, knowing that he couldn't... couldn't let Thace know what was happening, not now.

"It'll be all right," Thace rumbled, words with which they had assured each other so many times.  Hollow.  Empty, now.  But Ulaz loved him for it.

He thought about their wedding, their declarations of adoration and loyalty to each other, how they had thought they would have so much time.  How they had thought they would grow old together, how many things they had planned.  All for nothing, now.

But if he could be with anyone, at the end, he wanted it to be right here.

A hand ran up Ulaz’s back, comforting.  “Hey, listen.  The Alteans are smart, and skilled, and resourceful.  You don’t need to worry so much.”

“I know.”  And his voice was raspier than he had intended, so he took a few steadying breaths.  “I just… I was thinking about how much I love you, Thace.  I can’t imagine being married to anyone else.”  He pulled Thace in closer, holding him, screwing his eyes shut.

A soft chuckle from underneath him as Thace tolerated being manhandled, and Ulaz felt a soft pat on his back.  “I love you too, Ulaz.  You do get sappy, when it’s late.”

The words stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes.  Lying here, with his husband warm against him, with so much left undone, unsaid—he didn’t know how to—

“I mean it,” he said quietly, screwing his eyes shut.  “I just want you to know.  I love you very mu—”


	2. Chapter 2

_Kolivan wonders how he didn’t see it._

_It tears him up over the next few quintants.  He is the leader of the Blade of Marmora.  He should have at least had some idea that these two members had this, such a depth of affection that lasted deca-phoebs without seeing each other.  And yet, not a single complaint from them at being stationed apart._

_But that’s what being a Blade means, doesn’t it?  You can’t afford to allow your personal affairs get in the way._

_He wonders if anyone ever realized what he and Antok shared._

_The thought leaves him cold._

_—_

**One hundred and thirteen deca-phoebs later**

Thace rolled over, the light finally too bright to ignore, only to realize that the other side of the bed was cold.

Nescauga was always cold, of course.  Thace had known that upon being stationed here, and privately suspected that his thick coat of fur had something to do with the fact.  He had been told that it was an honor, that despite its remote location and frigid weather, they needed the Empire's best and brightest.  They were losing the war in this galaxy, and everyone knew it.  The rebel forces in the area didn't seem to be connected to any others, but whoever led them had talent.  It had taken deca-phoebs to pinpoint even the star system where they were headquartered, and just as long to find the precise planet.  Not surprising, given that Nescauga's atmosphere made much technology unusable, and its horrid climate made it less than ideal for anyone to choose as their base—unless, of course, you didn't want to be found.

But they would be found.  Thace had been ordered to make sure of that.  He simply wished that recent events hadn't... complicated matters.

With a groan, he rolled out of the bed, shivering as his feet touched the floor.  He could have woken in comfort, or at least relatively so, on the Empire's base a half-varga’s travel away, but he had informed them that he would be staying at a local facility, following up on a lead.  He had been granted permission to do so.  No reason not to, not with Thace such an exemplary soldier.

He had followed up on _something_ , that was for sure.

The door slammed open, sending a frigid gust of wind blowing in.  Thace jumped slightly, reaching automatically for a blanket to cover himself before he realized who had entered.

"You're awake," came the soft voice from the door.  Thace relaxed, sitting once again, at the sight of the tall figure, pale lavender face barely visible over the bundled jacket and scarf.  As he continued to pull the blanket around himself, though this time simply out of a desire for warmth instead of modesty, his eyes flicked down to the tray in a pair of gloved hands.

"You brought breakfast," he said, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Ulaz smiled faintly, closing the door behind him with a booted foot and then stepping forward.  "I thought it might be the polite thing to do.  I... did leave quickly, last time.  I wanted to make it up to you."

It was true, although at least he had paid for the shabby inn room.  The innkeeper, one of the Nescaugans who was not pleased to have Galra in his inn, had refused to help him; Thulaz suspected that Ulaz's GAC would have been untraceable, anyway.  But it had been such a rapid exit, with no trace left behind, that Thace had truly believed that they had seen each other for the last time.

Thace warred with the notion of making small talk, but quickly brushed away the idea.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," he said quietly, looking away.

He could see Ulaz stiffen beside him, and the two of them stayed in perfect silence and stillness for several ticks.  Thace tried to keep the bitterness off his face, the raw vulnerability from showing through.  He was a soldier of the Empire.  He couldn't afford to be distracted with things so petty as matters of the heart, especially with someone who...

But he hadn't been able to think of anything else for movements.  Ulaz's clever mouth, curled up in a subtle joke, leaving Thace feeling like he was the only one in the world with whom Ulaz was sharing his laughter.  His long, thin fingers, flashing through the air as he gestured passionately, determined to win whatever argument they might be having.

The warm, smooth skin under Thace’s hands as they ran slowly down his back, pulling him close as they fell onto the bed together.

He had told himself that this was to be expected.  That meeting a Galra not affiliated with the Empire’s army on a planet known for its status as the headquarters of a rebel cell against the Empire meant that... no matter who it was, he had to be suspicious, no matter how beautiful or brilliant they might be.

And that, he supposed, was even part of the reason that he suspected Ulaz's involvement.  What else would someone with such talent, such intelligence, be doing in a frozen wasteland like this?  Though the locals had no issues with the weather, even the Galra with the heaviest furs wound up miserable.  He couldn't imagine how Ulaz, with barely more than a patch on his head and a small amount on his abdomen, must be managing.

And Ulaz knew, as well.  Thace had made no secrets of his own profession: the armor marked him, clearly, as a Galra soldier, and the only thing the Empire was there for were the rebels.  So it had been no wonder that he had found himself abandoned, finally, after idle chatter had managed to slip into politics without either of them realizing where their post-coital discussion was heading.  The ensuing fight had been nasty and vicious, ending with Ulaz storming out and Thace now more positive than ever that he had fallen into a physical relationship with one of the very Galra he was hunting.

He had thought it was becoming emotional, as well, even romantic, but he had no longer considered that an option, not after their last meeting.

And then his comm had flashed, with just the words of the local inn and a time.  Thace had come, and Ulaz had been there, and they had kissed, and—

"So did I," came Ulaz's quiet voice, and he set the tray on the bed, then reached out to slide a hand down Thace's bicep.  "But I didn't want to leave like that."  Another pause, and he began to peel off the heavy clothing.  "I realized I didn't want to leave at all."

The words rocked through Thace, and he closed his eyes, hating how much the words filled him with a thrill and a dread at the same time.  This thing between them, could it even be overcome?  He wanted to believe that it could be, that love could conquer any obstacles in their course, but he couldn't see Ulaz deviating from his path, not after last time.  And being raised in a family so staunchly loyal to the Emperor, Thace could never turn his back on his people.  The Galra Empire was the only chance the universe had for stability, after being so viciously targeted over a hundred deca-phoebs ago, and all Thace wanted was for Ulaz to realize that.

"I didn't want you to, either," Thace replied, voice quiet, "but I don't know how else we will be able to manage.  I haven't changed my mind from before, Ulaz, and no matter how much we—"

But Ulaz's kiss, hard and long and deep, almost made Thace wish that he could.

"You don't know that," Ulaz murmured, forehead against Thace's, and as their eyes met, Thace’s ears flicked back.  “People can change.”

 _But you won’t._  The thought was the only thing that rang through Thace’s mind for a moment.  But then Ulaz began to pull off the thick clothing, so Thace turned to eat.

The fare was good, if simple; still, it was a significant relief from the rations that they fed the soldiers stationed here.  Thace understood that they had to be hardy, to survive the long transport here, but did that mean they had to be tasteless as well?

“Did you ever get a chance to try the fruits of Paolara?  I’ve never tasted anything fresher in my life, even after spending phoebs on a starship.  And the variety in taste!  You could make a meal from them alone.  Spicy, sweet; there are even a few aquatic varieties that resemble sea creatures in taste.  Being someplace like this makes me miss delicacies like that.”

“I don’t believe so,” Ulaz murmured.  “Paolara has been under embargo for deca-phoebs.  Since I was young, in fact.  My family couldn’t afford delicacies, and by the time I had a salary of my own, anything from Paolara or its surrounding systems—from many places, in fact—were forbidden.”

Thace was quiet for a moment.  How did it always come back to this?  The unspoken judgement towards the Empire and its blockades rang in the room, and Thace bit back his reply, that planets wouldn’t need to suffer if they would stop waging rebellion.  He didn’t want to fight.  Not again.

“You’re a doctor, you said, yes?”  They had talked about plenty, but never anything as personal as this.  Discussion of hobbies, or terrible reality series that they missed.  Nothing was broadcast out here, and Thace remembered how stupidly pleased he had been when Ulaz had sighed about how, as a doctor, “On Call” had always made him scream with frustration—so, of course, he had caught every single episode.  It had been a small bit of information, but made all the more precious by the fact that, although he knew Ulaz well enough by now to predict how he would react to nearly any situation, he still didn’t know anything _about_ him.

“Yes,” he said easily, sprawling out beside Thace now that he had pulled off the excess clothing and snapping open his comm.  “It’s difficult for the natives to get good medical care and supplies.  I’m part of an organization that reaches out to remote areas like this one.  We offer our services in exchange for food and lodging.  It’s a meager life, but… satisfying, if it’s what you want to do.  Simpler.  And I appreciate that much.”

Thace ached to believe it.  It was utterly believable, both logistically and from what he knew of Ulaz’s character.  It was a _perfect_ fit, really.  Thace wanted to throw himself into the story, settle his worries with how much sense it made.

And that was exactly why he couldn’t allow himself to do just that.

“Of course you do,” was all he said, though, tone wry and fond and wistful.  Right now, he had to admit, a simple life didn’t sound too bad.  He wondered… but no.  The Empire needed him.  “And you chose here?”

“I did.  It wasn’t exactly a popular destination, but someone had to.”  He let out a soft laugh, turning into Thace, the sheet the only thing between them.  “Now, when we’re talking about unfortunate residents, _you_ must have really made someone angry to get stationed all the way out here.  I’m surprised the Empire knows such an unimportant planet exists, let alone even has a presence here.”

Thace smiled blandly, even as caution prickled at the back of his neck.  As far as the official story went, the Empire had just established an outpost to close gaps in its influence; they had done so in several other remote locations as well, in an attempt to deflect at least some of the suspicion.  Ulaz might be making teasing conversation, but he also might be trying to find out information about the military presence here.

“I’m honored to be assigned to wherever the Empire needs me,” Thace said easily.  “Someone needed to do it, and I was available.”

“And how much do they pay you to say that line?” Ulaz retorted immediately, a wry smile playing at his lips.

Thace paused, then returned the smirk, a warmth spreading through him at the joke.  “A _lot_ , actually.  I won’t be sorry when my rotation here is done.  Nothing ever _happens_ here.”

This seemed to defuse the tension between them, and Ulaz plucked up a piece of bread, holding it out for Thace to eat.

Thace sighed, then acquiesced, leaning in to bite slowly into it.  Ulaz’s satisfied smile as he did lifted a weight on Thace’s heart, and he laughed softly, good-naturedly allowing Ulaz to feed him, until the breakfast was gone.  They then fell back onto the bed, limbs twining around each other as they simply enjoyed the silence together, Ulaz burrowing his fingers into Thace’s warm fur without even bothering to hide his intentions.  Thace only snorted.

But though he probably could have lay there forever, he knew that they would, eventually, have to go.  And that he had never been able to leave well enough alone.

“So,” he said, keeping his tone light.  “After this, am I ever going to see you again?”

Despite his efforts, the words still came off as… confrontational.  Almost accusatory.  He could feel Ulaz inhale next to him, holding his breath.

“I just meant… I missed you,” Thace quickly tried to recover.  “I thought about you, while you were away and I’d… I’d like to do this again.  More than this, even, you wouldn’t be opposed.”

Ulaz stayed very, very still for a few ticks, then gently pulled away, watching Thace with a resigned, almost sad expression on his face.

“And how, exactly, do you see that going?” he asked quietly.  “Do you think I would be able to just give up my work here and settle down with you?  Do you think that we wouldn’t run into another fight, worse than before, because you’re defending something I see as absolutely unconscionable?  Do you see me… what, joining the military and putting myself to use working for them?”  The last sentence had more than a tinge of bitterness to it, making it clear how absolutely vile he found the notion.

Thace could feel himself flare with defensiveness; not everyone in the military was terrible.   _He_ wasn’t terrible.  In any organization, you’d have those doing despicable things, and plenty who were accused of them who were innocent and simply on the wrong side of propaganda.  Besides, he would like to see Ulaz defend the rebels that Thace was increasingly certain Ulaz had significant ties to.  There had been plenty of destruction from their end, too: facilities destroyed, lives lost chasing them.  Even the casualties resulting from the ensuing Empire crackdown were, Thace firmly believed, the fault of those who simply refused to submit to rule and order.

“The Empire,” he finally managed; it was an effort, keeping his voice steady, “would gladly accept your talents, but also don’t require that its soldiers have relationships within its own ranks.”

“Generous of them,” Ulaz commented, tone glib.

Thace’s eyes narrowed.  “At least I am _trying_ , Ulaz!  They don’t give a weblum’s ass who I’m seeing, just as long as it isn’t a criminal.”

Those words were _definitely_ sharper than he had intended, but he didn’t feel like lessening it with an apology.  Not this time.  Not even when he turned and saw Ulaz’s expression: tense, eyes bright, lips pressed into a thin line.  The expression of a man who had nearly had enough.

But the resulting reaction wasn’t a yell; instead, it was a low, almost hissed voice, but still exquisitely careful in a way that sent the fur prickling down along Thace’s spine.

“Is that what you think of me?”

Thace should have stopped then.  He should have shaken his head, apologized, or even just left.

Instead, he snapped, “And what _else_ do you expect me to think of you?”

The silence stretched between them, after that, with Ulaz still once again as he watched Thace.

And then—

“This was a mistake,” he said, voice quiet, and rose from the bed.

He didn’t meet Thace’s eyes as he set the platter down on the small bedside fixture.  He didn’t even acknowledge that Thace was there, even with Thace’s eyes locked on him.

He pushed open the door to the bathroom, then closed it behind him.  After a moment, Thace heard the sound of the shower running.

He lowered his face to his hands, rubbing at his cheeks with his palms.  Of course it was a mistake.  He had known that quite some time ago.  Since almost the beginning.  But couldn’t they _try?_  Couldn’t they, maybe, try to compromise in some way?

Ulaz certainly didn’t seem to think so.

With a grunt of frustration, Thace rolled vigorously out of bed, throwing on clothing.  He would shower when he returned to the base.  It took only a few moments for him to gather his things and wrap himself in warm clothing as he determinedly ignored the sound of the shower.

A blinking light caught his eye.

Thace turned, then frowned slightly as he spotted Ulaz’s communicator.  An uncertain sensation settled in his gut.

Reaching out, he picked it up.

 —

“Thace.  Welcome back.”

Commander Lexor’s voice cracked through the air like a whip, and for the briefest of moments, Thace thought he had been exposed.  That she knew where he had been, and that he was in for severe disciplinary action—

“I was told where you’ve been.  I have to say, your dedication to this cause is admirable.”

Thace turned slowly to face her, assessing her expression to see if there was any intentioned sarcasm.  To his surprise—which he kept from his face—she did indeed look pleased.

“I only wish to do my best to serve the Empire,” he said cautiously, still watching her for any sign that his liaison had been exposed.  “Thank you.”

She nodded.  “We need more soldiers with your loyalty.  Tell me, did you find any information during your investigation?”

Thace thought back to Ulaz’s comm, the blinking lights that signaled a new message.  He wasn’t _only_ whatever idiotic Empire lackey Ulaz seemed to think he was.  He knew how to hack a communicator.

“I believe I have a few leads, yes,” he replied, voice quiet.

“Good; I thought you might.  It’s fortuitous that you’ve arrived right now, in fact.  Commander Brendok was dismissed this morning.”

Thace went very, very still.  He hadn’t been particularly fond of the Commander—had personally thought him in all of this for the glory more than the results, in fact—but whenever the Empire started shuffling individuals around, it meant that someone very powerful was very unhappy.

“Is that so?” he asked carefully, not wanting to express an opinion one way or the other.  He didn’t want to commit to a reaction just yet, not until he knew how the entire situation was playing out.

Not with how reactionary Lexor could be.

“Yes.  Oh, don’t look like that; I can’t imagine you’re surprised.  He was a fool.”  The news might not have been surprising, but the venom in her voice was.  Had she truly hated him so much?  “Soldiers who don’t achieve results are of no use to the Empire.”

She went quiet, and Thace understood that he was meant to respond.  “On that, I can agree,” he said, voice still measured.  “It is good to hear that the Empire still wishes to ensure our success.”

“Yes, they do.  And that’s why you’ve been promoted.”

Thace stared at her for a moment, ears ringing, fur prickling along his spine once again.  Had he heard her correctly?  _Thace_ had been promoted?  To Brendok’s position?

“Don’t look at me like that,” she sighed.  “You can’t be surprised.  I need someone who knows what he’s doing as my second.  You’re the only other person on this forsaken planet that gives a damn about completing the mission we’ve been assigned here for.”  Her eyes locked onto his.  “Can I count on you, or not?”

Determination settled in Thace’s gut, and his expression hardened as he nodded.  “Of course.”

“Good,” she replied, voice now clipped and professional.  “Now, no need to delay.  You said that you had leads.  I’d like to follow up on them as soon as possible.  We must show the Empire that there are _some_ left on Nescauga who still possess dedication.”

—

Thace had struggled.

He knew his duty, of course.  He never forgot his duty.  He never forgot the lives that had been lost, the sacrifices that need to be made in order to keep the universe safe.

But he also couldn’t forget the soft expression on Ulaz’s face when Thace had arrived, answering his call, the smile curling up on his lips when they had kissed for the first time in…

But he had always known he would be forced to make this choice.

“Good work, Thace.”

Commander Lexor’s pleased voice as she surveyed the rubble of the former rebel safehouse should have left Thace’s chest swelling with pride, satisfied that he had been instrumental in the greatest success the Empire had had on Nescauga so far.

But—

“I’m not surprised they were expecting us.  Intelligence reports that they had a very complex series of alarms and warnings on the base.  I wouldn’t consider it a success, not by the Empire’s normal standards, but with the garbage Roktik left us with, I’ll take it.  The first in many victories.”

Thace nodded back at her, for all appearances an unassuming, loyal soldier.  She had no way of knowing, not with Thace’s skill in concealment, if anyone had known those alarms had existed.  If anyone had led the strike force into them intentionally, giving whoever was stationed here time to escape.

“Even if we didn’t manage to kill any of them,” he replied, keeping his voice steady, “we’ve destroyed what is clearly a vital part of their operation.  We may even be able to find remnants of information here, if we’re lucky.”

“Exactly.”  Lexor waved behind her, where she had brought a team of scientists ready to scour any piece of electrical equipment the rebels had.  “See what you can find.”

Thace didn’t say the rest of what he had been thinking: that maybe this would be a wake-up call.  Maybe, just maybe, some of the more stubborn members, some who had a way out of this life, would start to reconsider their idiocy.

Maybe they would see reason.

—

“We need to talk.”

Thace had expected the call.  He had hoped to hear something vargas, maybe a quintant after the Empire’s attack, but Ulaz always had been able to surprise him.  It was nearly a movement before his comm rang with the familiar indication that the ID on the other end had been blocked.

“Yes,” he had replied.  “We do.”

And so the two of them had found themselves in a local eatery, secluded in a corner, voices low.  Ulaz’s face was more haggard than Thace’s had ever seen it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

And Thace… Thace couldn’t remember feeling this relieved.

“It’s just foolishness,” Ulaz continued, running his hands down his face and looking away.  “I’ve always known we couldn’t… always known it wouldn’t work.  Not such a small number against such a large one.  The ideals… I agree with their ideals, but wouldn’t it be better to approach things legally?  I understand what you’ve been saying—some things _do_ need to be changed.  But it’s not going to work, not doing this.  All we’re going to do is end up dead, and then where will that change be?”

Thace reached across the table, taking the back of Ulaz’s hand.  Ulaz, for his part, turned it over, twining their fingers together.

“I understand,” Thace said earnestly.  “And I want to help.  I’m not here to kill, you know.  Just keep the peace.”

“And that’s what I want, too,” Ulaz replied, voice quiet.  “Peace.  But I… I don’t want the others…”

Thace nodded solemnly.  “They’re misguided.  Just like you were.  But you came around; I can… I’ve been promoted.  I can see to it that they’re rehabilitated, if we can take them alive.  I don’t want them dead any less than you do.”

Because you don’t, he didn’t say out loud.

“Thank you,” Ulaz said quietly, tugging Thace’s hand in to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.  “So if I…”  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “If I tell you where to lead a force, you’ll be able to take them and make sure no one is hurt?  I don’t think they’ll fight.”

“As long as they don’t fight,” Thace promised, reaching out to cup Ulaz’s cheek.  “Then I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

—

 _How_ , Thace thought frantically, tucked in a corner, with a metal wall between himself and the gunfire blasting against his cover, _did we misjudge them so badly?_

Ulaz had given him the information he would need to ambush the rebels, to neutralize them with minimal casualties.  He had sworn it.  Lexor had been thrilled at the news: her recent promotion had already proven his worth, due to his dedication and willingness to scout out alternative methods, mingle with the locals, gather information.  They would be able to clean up the rebels with minimal risk.

But here they were, pinned down.  At least a quarter of their forces were dead, and Thace was separated from the rest.  He wanted to tell himself that he didn’t know how this could have happened.  That he didn’t know how he could have misjudged the situation so badly.

The only reason he was able to hold so firmly to his denial was that his attention was occupied elsewhere.

“Push!” he could hear Lexor cry over their communicators.  “Push—harder, you useless—Thace!  Find the group at the rendezvous point!  We still have a chance!”

She would be hanging back, observing their positions, using trackers to pinpoint the locations of every remaining soldier.  If she could see something that Thace couldn’t…

Taking a deep breath, Thace closed his eyes, steeling himself.  His shields wouldn’t hold, not through steady fire, but he would have to hope that they were otherwise occupied.

Springing up, he bolted in the indicated direction, listening intently to Lexor’s instruction as she navigated him through the base.  Bullets sprayed off his shields, but through whatever miracle, though they cracked and blared in his ears, they stayed up, and Thace stayed alive.

“There they are!”

Thace didn’t need Lexor’s words to see that he had reached the point in question.  He was one of the last to approach, and he saw the tired faces of the soldiers lifting, waving him over—

A small, dark shape sped through the air.  A rock?  A brick?

But as Thace’s eyes locked into it, the glow of circuitry lit up in the dim lighting.

It landed among them, and all Thace saw was a flash of brilliance before everything went black.

—

When Thace woke, the only reason he knew he wasn’t dead was that every bone in his body ached.

He forced open his eyes, first thing, to make sure he wasn’t still buried under the rubble at the rebel headquarters, and was met with the relief of the station’s medbay.  Safe, then.  Somehow.

He would have liked to have drifted for a bit in the blissfulness of half-wakefulness, perhaps with drugs to numb the pain.  He would have liked to not be hit with the realization that the soldiers he had brought into that ambush had been ambushed and killed themselves.  He would have liked to forget that Ulaz had—

But whoever had brought him here, or overseen his recovery, seemed to not have that on their priority list.

That must mean, since his mind was still clear—courtesy of the lack of painkillers—that he was still needed.

That must mean that, in all likelihood, Lexor was the one responsible for saving his life.

So he pushed himself up, groaning at the protests from his body.  At least, he thought numbly, it was a good distraction from the pain threatening to burst in his chest.  He had almost died.  Almost been killed.

He had been _set up._

But he screwed his eyes shut, thrusting those thoughts away.

“Commander, please,” came the quiet voice, and Thace turned to see the head doctor of the medbay, expression grave.  “You nearly died.  I’ve already told the Senior Commander, you shouldn’t be up and moving this soon after—”

Thace shook his head, making a motion with his hand to cut her off.  “Does she need me?”

Doctor Vrental exhaled through her nose, clearly curbing frustration.  For himself, Thace wasn’t feeling particularly charitable towards doctors at the moment.

“Yes,” she finally admitted, acquiescing under his hard stare.  “She said to have you report to the detention cells as soon as you woke.”

The brig.  That must mean their forces had managed to take prisoners.  Which—which meant that not everyone could be dead.

“Understood,” he rasped, making to push himself out of the bed.

Doctor Vrental’s hand stopped him.

“You’ve been hurt badly,” she said quietly, voice low but firm.  “I have no problem letting you rest longer, if you need.”

Thace simply shook his head and shook her off.  The foul taste in his mouth, he tried to tell himself, had to be from the rest, from whatever they had given him to treat him, from _something_ besides the betrayal weighing in his gut that he was trying to ignore.  One foot in front of the other.  His armor and weapon lay near the entrance, and he wasted no time in suiting up.

He didn’t even know what he might need protection from, at this point, but he couldn’t imagine outfitting himself any other way.

The journey to the detention cells took far shorter than Thace had hoped, and it seemed like only moments before he was reaching out and placing his hand on the access pad.

The door slid open.

“Commander Thace!” called Lexor from the direction of the interrogation rooms.  Was he the only one left on the base, from that disastrous mission, that she would know who had entered the cells immediately, or did she have her communicator set to identify anyone who used their hand to enter?

Thace stumbled in the direction of the voice, and when he spotted her standing outside onf of the interrogation rooms, managed to right himself in time for a quick salute and a “Vrepit sa.”  Lexor barely seemed to notice, eyes fixed on the door, expression tight, angry, and _hungry._

“It’s good to see you up and recovered,” she said, voice quiet and dangerous, ignoring the fact that Thace was clearly not anywhere close to recovered, not with his limp.  “They took enough good soldiers from us.  I would have hated to lose you as well.”

As badly as he had feared, then.  “How many?” he asked voice quiet.

“Three quarters,” she replied, voice harder but just as quiet.  Thace inhaled sharply; that left the base with a population of maybe twenty who were trained in battle.

“Then we’re vulnerable,” he replied instantly, fear prickling at his spine, the fur pushing at the armor.  “They could take this moment to attack—”

Lexor let out a bitter laugh, but there was satisfaction in it, too.  “No, they won’t.  Not after what we did to them.”

Thace felt himself stiffen.  Even after all of this, even after a blatant betrayal, he still couldn’t keep the fear from tightening his chest.  “And what was that?”

“I had a few survivors go in and plant biological weapons.  Once it became clear we wouldn’t be able to take the base without killing them all, I figured I’d do just that.”  She waved a dismissive claw.  “At least we got to watch them all choking on their own blood before they went.”

Thace’s mouth had gone dry.  He had done this.  He had led soldiers, _his_ soldiers, to their deaths, with the promise of an easy victory.  And he hadn’t even been able to save any of the rebels, either.

So what _had_ he done, besides cost the universe hundreds of lives?

“They’re all dead, then?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Well,” she amended.  “No, not all of them.”

And then she pushed open the door.

A hunched over form had been chained to the wall, arms stretched up uncomfortably high, dried purple blood encrusted over where the shackles held the wrists.  The figure had clearly been left here long enough for the blood to run in streams down the arms, and long enough for it to dry, as well.

It didn’t even look up as they walked in.

“We did manage to get our hands on the leader.  That’s what I’ve been up to, while you’ve been out—it’s been three quintants, you know.  And for someone who ran such a bloodthirsty organization, clearly, no one ever taught him to withstand torture.”

Thace didn’t move.  Didn’t say anything.  Just stared at the form.  Had the leader known?  Had Ulaz warned them?  Undoubtedly.

“I’ve gotten all the information I can from him.  He’s the last; I’ve made sure of that.  He’s only alive until we decide he shouldn’t be anymore.”  She smiled, cold and cruel and satisfied.  “And I thought you might want to do the honors, Thace.”

At the words, the figure’s head lifted, his eyes meeting Thace’s.  As Ulaz gazed back at him, expression exhausted and defeated, Thace forgot how to breathe.

“They call—well, called—themselves the ‘Blade of Marmora.’  A group of miscreants who don’t know what’s good for them, clearly.  And here I thought we had gotten rid of the disloyal Galra with Altea’s destruction,” she sneered.  “Clearly not.”

Something that sounded like grating rocks echoed across from them, and it took Thace a moment to realize that it was bitter laughter.

“You don’t know, do you?” he rasped, lifting his gaze from Thace’s to Lexor’s.  “You don’t know what the Empire created, when it killed so many of its people.  The dead ones, they left behind friends.  Family.  And many of them realized their mistakes, that the Empire they were serving had fallen to tyranny.”  His eyes slid from Lexor’s, back to Thace’s, and Thace felt suddenly pinned by its intensity.  “One day, you might realize your mistakes as well.”

It took two steps for Lexor to stride across the room, and just one movement for her to backhand Ulaz, silencing him.  Thace could only watch, still unable to move, unable to speak.

Of course it had come to this.  He had known there would never be any chance for… for anything.

But, he realized, as Lexor turned and placed her gun into his hand, he hadn’t prepared himself for this in the slightest.

“Are you sure?” he asked carefully, which earned him a surprised look from Ulaz.  “He might have more… more use to us.  More information to be shared.”

“Like what?” she shot back, irritation clear in her voice.  “Trust me, I got everything possible out of him.  We killed the last of this scum with the deployment of our weapon.”  She nodded over at Ulaz, who had closed his eyes, defeat creasing his face again.  “Look at him.  He knows.  The Blade of Marmora has been destroyed, and _we_ were the ones who did it!”

But despite the triumph in Lexor’s voice, Thace only felt hollow.

“Get to it, commander.”

He wondered, suddenly, why Ulaz hadn’t told of their relationship.  And Thace knew, for sure, that he hadn’t: he would be right there next to Ulaz if Lexor knew.  Gripping the gun tightly to keep his hand from shaking, he followed her, lifting it to aim at Ulaz’s head.

He could have saved his own life, Thace realized.  He had to know that spilling the information on Thace would earn him extra time alive, perhaps even grace of a sort, if Lexor was feeling generous.  After all, ferreting out a perceived traitor within the Empire’s ranks would earn her even more recognition.  And clearly Ulaz had no trouble sending him into a deadly trap.

But Ulaz only watched him, tired and sad and—

Was that forgiveness in his eyes?  Hope?

Either way, Thace couldn’t look, not anymore.

He had to look away when he pulled the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

_There are, Kolivan reflects, tiny miracles, at least._

_The transmissions continue past the date of Ulaz’s death.  Thace doesn’t receive any back, of course, but Kolivan has been through enough to know that this isn’t an uncommon occurrence.  At times, they could go phoebs without hearing from each other._

_Even he, stoic as he is, isn’t sure how they manage._

_Ulaz had flown to his death thinking that his actions would, in some small way, give Thace a better chance of living to see peace.  And Thace… Thace had had no idea._

_In a way, Kolivan envies them._

—

**Some thousands of deca-phoebs later**

Ulaz was never sure if he should be grateful or resentful of his posting out on the Akeltos space station.

On one hand, it was in a remote location in the corner of a distant galaxy.  Nothing ever happened here, nothing beyond the occasional scrape and illness that he was called to treat.  His presence there was more a result of protocol that required every space station to have a medic onboard rather than of actual necessity.  Communications could take quintants, and any sort of entertainment was likely a phoeb old, at best.  It was easy to feel forgotten by the Empire, all the way out here.

But on the other hand, it wasn’t as if his assignment was the result of any interpretation of lack of skill—quite the opposite, in fact.  Small and remote as a base might be, to be the sole medical provider was an inarguable honor.  And there was something to be said for the quiet, for the opportunities to catch up on reading or learn a new language.  The company wasn’t terrible, either, and for all that they received a resupply shipment only once every two phoebs, Ulaz always enjoyed interacting with their guests.  In all, the Akeltos Station wasn’t a terrible place to live.

Because, most importantly, it wasn’t Quellore.

The Empire never gave up, once it decided to conquer a planet, a solar system, a galaxy.  In hundreds and hundreds of deca-phoebs, This had always been an incontrovertible fact of life.  And it had taken the known universe, some parts with less ease than others, but it had always succeeded.

The Quellorians were proving to be the toughest gextrum the Empire had ever tried to crack.

Though the Empire’s numbers were far greater, the discovery of the Quellore Galaxy had been a shock for one simple reason: their technology was eons ahead of the Galra Empire.  This had, of course, meant that the Empire now _had_ to conquer them, to take that technology for their own.  It also meant, however, that this time, sheer numbers didn’t mean an easy victory.

And finally, most significantly, it meant that every spare resource in the Empire, every new enlistee, anything the Empire did not immediately need somewhere else, was shipped to the Quellore system.

The Empire would win its victory eventually.  Of that, no one had any doubt.  But until then, those unfortunate enough to be deployed there went to almost certain death, cannon fodder meant to overwhelm the Quellorians.  Victory or death—only, in this case, one was a requirement of the other.

And so, in comparison, the Akeltos Station may as well have been a holiday.

Ulaz sipped at his Paolaran juice, scanning over his datapad for any news, behind as it may be.  Nothing; or, at least, nothing that he hadn’t already seen before.  “Victories” on Quellore, the Emperor’s speeches, promotions that meant nothing to him.

However—and, admittedly, he had known this for some time and didn’t need the news to inform him of this fact—their resupply was to be arriving today.

He tapped the screen off with a lighter heart than usual, standing and stretching.  It wouldn't be long, he thought, until…

The Empire always sent the same team of soldiers to supply its stations.  The same five Galra, every two phoebs, for the past two deca-phoebs.

And of those five, Thace would be among them.

And Ulaz had discovered, over those visits, over this time, that there was far more to Thace than his military prowess, or physical abilities, or striking good looks.  There was a passion there, as well; a determination to protect and do genuine _good_ in the universe.

“Good” was never exactly an option, not as a Galra.  There was always the underlying knowledge, when you thought about it too hard, what you were supporting.  What the entity you served did to anyone in its way.  But thinking about it always led to the realization that you had no choice, either, that if you so much as hinted at any dissatisfaction where your superiors, many of whom were undoubtedly far more loyal to the Empire than the practical, non-delusional Galra, could hear, you would find yourself on the chopping block.

But sometimes, you found someone you could share that… uncertainty with.  Not quite dissatisfaction—Ulaz wasn’t _suicidal_ —but someone you could talk with about… philosophical things.  Issues of morality.  How to maintain that, as much as you could, as a soldier to the Empire.  Ulaz didn’t have it nearly as bad as Thace, as a doctor, but he understood enough that their conversations tugged at something in his chest, left him wanting more, had him looking forward to each new visit.

They had never gone farther than friendship, though, and a tentative one at that.  But Ulaz had begun to suspect that Thace wouldn’t be at all opposed to a proposition for something more.

Maybe Ulaz would offer, this time.  It wasn’t unheard of, finding company on these overnight stays.  Maybe Thace would accept.  Maybe, they might even stay in touch, long enough to plan something for when the Empire no longer had complete hold on their personal lives.

He finished dressing and headed out of his room at the alert of an incoming vessel.

When Ulaz arrived at the cargo bay, he spotted three of their regulars immediately, being helped by three more of the locally stationed soldiers.  Thace and one other were nowhere to be found.

Lifting his hand in a salute and placing it over his heart, Ulaz hurried forward to investigate.

“Welcome to Akeltos again.” He offered them what he hoped was a friendly smile.  “It’s always good to see you.”

The ranking officer—Ethok, Ulaz thought her name might be—shot Ulaz a tired grin.  “Good to be here.  There’s something to be said for a place this quiet.”

Ulaz nodded his acknowledgement, then glanced around, looking once more and finding nothing.

“There are only three of you,” he said.  “Aren’t there usually more?  Where’s Thace and…”  He couldn’t remember the name.

“Oh,” Ethok replied, sounding tired.  “The Empire’s shorthanded, so the resupply staff’s been cut.  Only three of us to a team, now.  The rest were of better use on Quellore, they decided.”

Quellore.  The word sank into Ulaz’s chest with a dull, painful sensation.  “They were reassigned?” he asked carefully.

Ethok nodded, turning to step back into the shuttle.  Ulaz followed.

“Both of them, yes.  I hear back from Sektes sometimes, but he has no idea where Thace was stationed, and I haven’t gotten any communications from Thace at all.  It’s not hard to figure out where he is now.  Take this for me?”

Ulaz accepted the crate, helping her offload the supplies, quiet despite her attempts at conversation.

Quellore.

There was only one reason you lost touch with someone assigned there.

The rest of the resupply went without a hitch.  Ulaz saw to it that his medical supplies were distributed properly, then went back to his quarters.  The crew would stay the night, an opportunity for social engagement, and Ulaz would be invited.

He might join them.  He might not.

For now, he just wanted to be alone.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Ulaz,_

_“I’ve received my final orders.  This will end, and then we will be free.  The universe itself will be one step closer to that freedom as well._

_“The first thing I’m going to do when I see you again is kiss you until you can’t remember your own name.  Then I’m going to  ask you to marry me._

_“I hope you say yes.  I’ll see you soon, I promise._

_“Yours to the end of time and beyond, Thace.”_

_With a swallow, Kolivan closes the last of their transmissions._

—

**Fifty-six deca-phoebs before present day**

Ulaz had thought, when Thace had come to him, eyes shining and hopeful, saying that he had found something amazing, something that would save them all from the Empire, that they would have a chance.

Rebellions always failed.  Everyone knew that.  In ten thousand deca-phoebs, countless had tried, and just as many had failed.  The Empire was too much of a monolith to have any qualms about leaving piles of bodies in its wake.  But they had never had weapons like this.  They never had…

“ _We can form Voltron_ ,” Thace had whispered, looking more alive than Ulaz had seen him in deca-phoebs.

Ever since he had asked Ulaz to run with him, to break free of the shackles of the Galra Empire’s compulsory military service and escape together rather than be separated, stationed on the opposite sides of the universe for the crime of being in love.  Ever since Ulaz had been caught in the attempt, beaten and left for dead, and barely managed to cling to survival after phoebs of Thace nursing him back to health.  Ever since Thace’s mother, since Thace’s entire family, had been slaughtered by the unrelenting armies of the Empire.

Ulaz had scoffed at first.  Children’s tales; the natural enemy of the Galra, in fact, according to the Empire, though they weren’t even particularly subtle about the fact that this was complete and utter propaganda.  Those unfailingly loyal to Zarkon might be fooled into thinking that it was a weapon built in an attempt to extinguish the Galra, but the Empire couldn’t extinguish all remnants of pre-Imperial domination.

But Thace had shown him the lion, fierce and red and with an undeniable link to each other, and watching the two of them fly… Ulaz thought he might allow himself to be convinced.

When Red led them to Green, when Ulaz placed his hand on her hull and felt her sing with recognition, he knew that he believed.

—

He should have known that they weren’t the only ones looking for Voltron.

They had tried their best to keep this quiet, but how could you, when you were searching for three more enormous space lions and trying to recruit suitable pilots for them?  Red had led them to Blue, next, and Layak had proven to be a brilliant pilot, despite how very little Thace and Ulaz knew about her.

And then the Empire had crashed down on top of them like a hammer.

The first few fights they managed to hold off the attacks, even push back a little.  The Lions had powers that none of them had dreamed of, and the Galra Empire had no idea what they were getting into.

But when the Galra cruiser hit Red with a beam that none of them had ever seen the likes of before, everything changed.

They didn't realize at first, simply continuing on their task to find the other two lions.  But the Empire continued to pursue them, always seeming to know where they were and showing up sometimes mere vargas afterwards.  It became an exhausting pursuit, and they were beginning to be run ragged.

It had been Green who had finally showed Ulaz what was wrong.  And now, with dozens of Galra ships appearing in the empty space in front of them, Ulaz didn't know how they were going to get out of this one.

"It's a virus," he said tightly, breaking the tense silence of the comms.

Thace was the first to respond, though he took several ticks to do so.  "No."  But the tremor in his voice told Ulaz that the information had been a lightning bolt of clarity, just as it had for Ulaz.

"Thace."  Ulaz lowered his voice to the gentle tone he only ever used for his lover.  "You know what this means."

" _No!_ " Thace shouted, and the crash over the comms likely meant Thace had struck the control panel with his fist.  "No, she can't be—"

"Red is compromised," Layak broke in, her voice forceful and unapologetic.  "We didn't know what that weapon was, all those phoebs ago.  But think about it.  It makes sense.  Haven't you said that your communication with her has been spotty?"

"She _can't_ be!"  But Ulaz knew that Thace didn't believe what he was saying.

"Thace," Ulaz continued, injecting a thread of urgency into his voice.  "It's the only thing that makes sense.  Red led us to Green, then to Blue.  Why would she have shut down on you after that attack?  None of them are willing to compromise the two that are still hidden.  They don't want us to lead the Galra to them."

Thace spat several curse words into the comm, but didn't argue further.  The silent acquiescence hurt Ulaz more than anything else could have.

"We have to find a way to fix her," Thace said finally.  "Find a planet who knows its technology, see if we can get far enough to get this out of her system—"

"A planet with that kind of technology who won't turn us over to the Galra at the first opportunity?" Layak shot back.  "Any society that helps us is getting a death sentence.  Can you really live with yourself if you put them through that, for the very small chance that that might be able to help?"

Neither replied for several ticks; she wasn't wrong.

"Layak," Ulaz began quietly.  "I know you have... connections.  Not to whom, but it's clear that you know things.  That you're part of something bigger than this."  The resources they had "conveniently" managed to get their hands on over the last two deca-phoebs had been far too useful to be coincidence.  "Don't you think it's time to tell us?"

Though she said nothing, Ulaz could practically see the struggle on her face.  This had come up before, but never in such dire straits.  As well, he could nearly feel Thace's agony, that his lion, his companion, could be the source of so much danger—

"I'm sorry, Ulaz," Layak finally said, and he could feel his tenuous thread of hope snap.  "I can't.  It's... it's too much of a risk.  We can't lead the Empire to them, either, and I don't have think they would have anything that could help."

"So be it, then," Thace said, so quietly that Ulaz nearly missed it, and Ulaz closed his eyes.

"We need to make a tactical retreat," Layak continued.  "If we can hide the rest—Blue, Green—well enough from the Galra, we can come back to this in a few deca-phoebs, once this mess has settled down.  We can even rescue Red."

Thace made a noncommittal noise.  He didn't sound like he believed that would be possible any more than Ulaz did.

"You have a plan?" he asked dutifully, still at least not wanting to completely destroy their hope.

"I found a planet.  It's tiny, primitive, but it has an enormous amount of geological diversity.  It’ll be easy enough to hide Blue.  Inhabited, too, and I have enough quintessence remaining to disguise myself and my daughter to blend in with the local population for over a dozen deca-phoebs, if it takes that long.”

"And you just expect me to _leave_ her?" Thace gritted out; the pain in his voice tore through Ulaz's heart.

"The Galra will get Red, one way or another," Layak insisted.  "Better for you to decide where that happens, to escape with Ulaz, and come back to save her.  I'll send Green the coordinates, and I'll wait as long as I can."

Ulaz was forced to admit that it made sense.  But he didn't want to be the one to say it.  He turned his head, looking out the viewscreen in the direction of Red...

"Take her and go," Thace said tiredly, and Ulaz closed his eyes.  There they had it.  "Keep your daughter safe.  If we make it out, we'll find you."

Layak inhaled softly, and it took Ulaz a moment to realize that she had expected them to fight her on this, to force her to stay with them, even to the point of near-certain death.

"Thank you," she said softly.  "I hope we someday meet again."

Ulaz wished that he could hope, too.

Still, she seemed to hesitate to move—until Green's warnings alarms began to flash and blare.

"The Empire is back," Thace growled, sending a tingle down Ulaz's spine, despite the inappropriateness of the reaction for the situation.  They needed to get out of this first; _then_ Ulaz could focus on how attractive his lover was when he decided to be fierce.

"Get out of here, Layak!" Ulaz barked, reaching for Green's controls.  "We'll create a diversion.  Stay safe!"

Ulaz watched Blue out of the window lift, turn, and then speed off in the opposite direction of the attack.  Green's control panel beeped as it received her transmitted coordinates.

"Ready to kick some ass?" Thace murmured, that ferocity still very present, and Ulaz couldn't stop the smile from curving up his lips.

"Always."

This time, the two of them flew forward, ready to invite their challengers to come against them.  The lions were too powerful to be taken down by normal contingents of Galra ships; a threat would have to present in a number of...

But then Ulaz began to see the size of the Galra fleet that had been sent after them.

"Oh, Quiznak," Thace breathed.

Thousands.  Thousands and thousands of ships, all sent with one express purpose: to capture the lions and kill their pilots.

"We can't fight this," Ulaz said, at the same moment Thace began, "This isn't going to—"

They both broke off, not wanting to interrupt the other, but as the reality of the situation crested over them, they both shouted at the same time:

" _Run!_ "

The best Ulaz could tell, with the very limited attention he was able to pay their pursuers, at least the majority of them peeled off to chase Green and Red.  With any luck, they hadn’t seen Blue, and Thace and Ulaz would be able to lead them off, cause a ruckus and distraction, and then lose them again.

And it did work, as it had so many times before.  Until it didn’t.

The lions dodged and weaved, kept out of range.  They had learned very quickly that they could fly faster than any Galra ship when in peak condition.

But Red was not in peak condition.

“Thace, what are you _doing!_ ” Ulaz called, more afraid than angry, despite his words.  This had been the third time Red had paused, as if Thace were considering turning around and flying back into the fleet, and gave Ulaz a heart attack in the process.

“I’m not!” Thace replied, which was about the last thing Ulaz wanted to hear at that moment.  “I’m not doing _anything._  She’s just… I’ll try to fly her, and then…”

Ulaz inhaled sharply.  Maybe if neither said it, neither acknowledged it, it wouldn’t…

“Ulaz,” Thace finally said, voice hoarse.  “It’s getting wor—”

“Don’t!” Ulaz interrupted, shaking his head forcefully despite knowing that Thace couldn’t see him.  “Don’t even say it.”

“Ulaz—”

“Please, Thace—”

“—you know what I have to do.”

“No,” Ulaz shot back, but his voice was no more convinced than Ulaz himself.  “No, I don’t—”

“Better they have one lion than two,” Thace replied, hard and steady.  “The universe is more important than I am.”

Flashes, snippets of argument rolled through his mind, but nothing coherent, nothing he could put together into something, _anything_ he could say to Thace to make him stay.

“ _Please_ ,” was all he managed, but Red didn’t turn back.

“I love you,” Thace whispered, the pain and longing and the knowledge of time they should have had together but never would threading through his voice.  Ulaz opened his mouth, but it didn’t seem to be willing to follow his commands.

In desperation, he reached out to Green.  She was old, older than nearly anything else in the universe; surely she had to know some way—

_We must go._

“ _GO!_ ” Thace’s voice rang out at nearly the exact same time, in tandem with her final word, echoing it, amplifying it.

Ulaz didn’t know if it was himself or Green who turned them, sending them shooting off in another direction.

A few tried halfheartedly to give chase, but Green was still in peak condition, and their attempts to do so would have been laughable if not for what Ulaz had just left behind.  From his screens, at a distance, he watched his pursuers circle back to go after the promise of an easier prey, the crippled lion slowly being engulfed by swarms of Galra ships.

One of them slammed into Red’s side, a brief flash of flames in the darkness of space.  Then another, and he could see Red begin to falter—

Something flashed from one of the bigger ships, a huge, glowing ray nearly the size of Red herself, and for the briefest of moments, it engulfed her.

But that briefest of moments was all it needed.  A shriek of agony from over the comms, and then—

Silence.

Unable to watch any further, Ulaz turned and ushered Green a direction.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.

Just not here.

—

Green eventually found them a planet.  Ulaz didn’t particularly care.

This was a good thing, perhaps, because the area in which she had landed them was an enormous swampland, nearly impossible to navigate without flying.  He might have been frustrated if he had been able to feel anything at all, even with her assurance that this was where she needed to be.  She didn’t know why, but she needed to hide until…

He didn’t know until what, exactly.  But he could sense enough of her grief—the only thing to which he was able to relate—to know that it wasn’t for him.  She needed him still, yes, given the images that were now flooding his mind, but once he completed the work, he was finished.  No more.  He didn’t know what, if anything, was edible for Galra in this bog, and he certainly couldn’t use her to leave the planet.  Better a quick death from something poisonous than the slow death of starvation.

He could still hear Green, of course, more or less, though her thoughts came through in a fog.  She still needed him, he repeated to himself.  He could die once that work was done.

Better to focus on that than their failure.  They would never form Voltron.  But at least the lions were safe.  There was more there, too, in the back of his head from her.  An apology, maybe.  But right now…

She needed him.

He would have preferred a cave, but the thought of taking the time to painstakingly scout the topography for one left him nauseous.  No, there were other, faster ways to do this.  The foliage was thick enough, the planet quiet enough, this area untrodden enough that this spot would do.

When he finished concealing her with the thick trees and bushes, a sanctuary against the face of a cliff, you would never have known that anyone had disturbed this place.  And here she would sleep, for however long it took for her to find a new paladin.  For her to try again to rid the universe of its tyranny.  For someone else to come along who wouldn’t fail.

There was only one thing left to do.  The images flooded his mind, the only things stark and detailed in there, against a backdrop of resignation.  He was glad that she had realized trying to bring him back from this was a fruitless cause.

He briefly wished he had Layak’s knife, with a blade made of a material so rare that Ulaz had never even seen it in person.  But wishing would do him no good.

He knelt to the ground, fumbling around.  A rock would have to do.  He was almost finished.

Ulaz’s fingers closed around a stone, its sharp edges sending dull pangs of pain through his hand.  He couldn’t bring himself to care.  He stood, staring down at it.  Simple.  Unremarkable.  But it was Green’s, at least, key to freedom.

Ulaz turned to the cliff face and began to carve.


	5. Chapter 5

_Voltron prevails.  Peace comes.  The universe collectively mourns those they had lost, then begins to move forward together.  A new era of peace and prosperity for what was once the Galra Empire: it had been shattered, yes, but Kolivan hopes that, one day, it will heal._

_The Paladins of Voltron help find a planet for the Galra, the ones who want to put the war behind them, to raise their families quietly on the edge of space.  They even help name it: Idyll.  A good word, Kolivan thinks at the time, both for the sound and the meaning from Earth.  It becomes known as a bastion of peace, a place of quiet simplicity.  Kolivan knows in his bones that he wants to spend the rest of his life there._

_So he helps them build.  He provides guidance.  He officiates the first wedding to take place on Idyll.  His last action as leader will be one of life, not death._

_He builds a shrine, near one of the towns, in remembrance.  Thace and Ulaz deserve to be remembered, in some way, even if no one else will ever know the full story of what they had.  But the thought of their love being forgotten is, to him, unbearable._

_His own shrine, the one for Antok, he keeps private._

_Though Kolivan tells the story to some, it seems to end up swept away in the passing of time.  Still, the first time he hears someone refer to the shrine as “The Lovers,” his old heart thaws, just a tiny bit._

_He continues to tend to it, even in his old age.  He hears of the legend that the local Galra spread: if you meet your sweetheart near the shrine, your love will endure past death._

_So he watches, and every pair of lovers that he sees make the pilgrimage, he wishes them nothing but the best._

_One day, he finds himself sitting in the sun, leaning back to get every bit of warmth into his old bones that he can.  He can feel him growing closer to Antok every passing breath, and he’s begun to welcome it like an old friend._

_Two of the paladins have come to visit him, Shiro and Keith, the head of Voltron and his right hand man—in more ways than one.  It’s been some time; in fact, he hasn’t seen them since the wedding.  They’ve aged, but well, and he can tell they have deca-phoebs ahead of them._

_Two of the younger Galra seem to have banded together to gather up the courage to speak to them.  They are something of celebrities, after all.  As Shiro kneels, a gentle smile on his face, holding out his inert bayard for them to look at with wide eyes, Kolivan’s eyes slide over the kits._

_One is a darker shade of purple, his fur almost comically long, a poof into which he will grow one day, but for now, leaves him an awkward, adorable sight, with ears just slightly too big for his head.  The other, a pale lavender, lacks much fur at all other than a white shock of hair._

_They tug at a memory in him, painful and bittersweet._

_Lips quirking in a faint smile, he tilts his head back, closing his eyes._

—

Thace ran his hand over the polished stone of the shrine, lips quirking up in a faint smile.

It had been deca-phoebs since he’d set foot on Idyll.  The life wasn’t for everyone, he had always been told, and when his parents had moved off-planet in search of more adventurous pursuits, Thace had left behind the only home he had ever known.

Still, it had served him well in the end.  He never would have managed to secure a prestigious spot in the Universal Defense Peace Corporation otherwise.  He couldn’t imagine growing up like this, nice as it seemed.

But even the most successful young officers needed a vacation every once in a while.

He wasn’t sure, exactly, what had brought him here.  A pursuit of memories, maybe; after all, it had been here that he had met the Black and Red Paladins of Voltron, two humans who had encouraged him to pursue his dream of adventure.

Nothing much had changed, he reflected, from the green of the trees to the rolling fields to the quaint houses to the cluster of offerings at the base of the shrine.

He set his own down, a few necessities that he knew supported the ancient shrine-keeper, and turned to go—only to nearly run into someone else who seemed to have the same idea.

“Sorry!” came the startled exclamation, and something in it seemed to ring a bell of memory.  He straightened, stepped back, and frowned, doing his best to dig through his memory to find where he knew the other Galra.

“Ulaz,” he finally, almost in wonder that he had managed to recall such a tiny detail from his past.  They had been childhood friends, but Thace had no idea how he had translated the tiny image into the tall, lithe form who stood before him now.

“Do I… know you?” Ulaz asked uncertainly, giving Thace a side-eye.  Not suspicious, just the tiniest bit wary.

Thace let out a self-deprecating laugh.  “I don’t know, actually.  If you remember, anyway.  It’s me, Thace.  We met the paladins together?  Managed to work up the courage because each other was going…”

Ulaz’s eyes immediately brightened, and a soft smile spread across his face.  “Thace!  Of course I remember.  Stars, you’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

“And so have you,” Thace replied with a laugh.  Handsomely, too; those features that had been too solemn on a kit were fine and aristocratic on an adult, and Thace couldn’t keep his eyes off of them.

“It’s wonderful to see you again.  What brings you back to Idyll?”

“A much-needed vacation,” Thace replied, voice dry.  “You should hear some of the things we get up to in the Corps.”

Ulaz’s eyes crinkled in warmth.  “That sounds fascinating, actually.”  He knelt to leave his own offering, then stood, dusting off his hands, turning back to Thace.  “Are you here long?”

“A few movements, at least.  Plenty of time to catch up, if you’d like.”

The soft smile turned into a large one.  “That sounds wonderful, actually.  I can show you around, too.  Show you where everything hasn’t changed.”

The two of them shared a laugh at that, and Ulaz extended a hand, an expression on his face that seemed to match the unexpected eagerness inside Thace’s chest.

“I’d like that, I think,” he rumbled, meeting Ulaz’s eyes.

He reached out and took Ulaz’s hand.


End file.
